


Read My Mind

by theianitor



Series: Reading About Yourself [5]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, M/M, Mentions others, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s interesting and weird at the same time, reading about yourself. There comes a point where he runs out of stories though. He’s never been one for creative activities but just writing what you see in your head can’t be that difficult, can it? (But with the others he already knew how the stories went. With Nico he has no idea.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Read My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> So a little while back I got a subtle, very low-key request for Valtteri's bit of the reading adventure. This is inspired by and completely dedicated to MasterEyebrow. :)

As usual he can just sort of _tell_ Nico’s nearby even before he can see him. Something in the way people seem to straighten up and take notice. He notices Nico too, of course he does; he can’t imagine anyone has ever missed Nico Rosberg. The blonde German walks through a room and everyone just _knows_ he’s there.

Valtteri keeps his head down, seemingly looking at the printout on the counter in front of him, but his eyes follow Nico as he walks past. The racing suits are a blessing and a curse at times like these because at a distance they’re all color, but up close they’re all _shape_. They’re both in white, the details are different but generally speaking they’re both in white. Still, Nico looks attractively defined and completely comfortable as he walks past, his head held high, his back straight, that slight sway in his hips. He lends his shape to his suit, and there’s no mistaking him.

Valtteri feels shapeless and anonymous in his suit, like it fades him out. To him it’s work-clothes and sure, he’s proud of them, of where he is, but he’ll never have a presence in them like Nico does. Nico takes off his helmet at the end of a race and runs a hand through his hair and he’s fucking _perfect_. Valtteri takes off his helmet and is a sweaty mess with red cheeks and the only grace is that his hair is too short to get messy.

Others look at Nico too, he knows. He notices. It’s one of the perks of being faded out, anonymous, always quiet in the background; he can watch the others pretty much unnoticed, even when he’s right next to them they don’t really pay him much mind. They sometimes joke about how quiet and awkward he is. He doesn’t care. Not a lot, anyway.

Others don’t just look at Nico. No, that’s the true beauty of him, that he’s the complete and utterly infallible package. Pretty, smart, talented, nice... sociable. Nico is, even at his worst, completely untouchable and unobtainable. Too perfect to be touched by human hands.

They still do though. It’s just another side of him. Valtteri has heard the talk, the rumors about how Nico sleeps around, but how does that even matter? It doesn’t tarnish Nico in any way, how could it? Everything slides off him, like washing off any other kind of dirt from the skin. He just doesn’t know if he’s more jealous of that ability, or that others approach Nico, that they get to...

His thoughts trail off as he realizes something’s wrong. It’s like reality slides back into focus in front of his eyes and _fuck_ he’s looking right at Nico... who has stopped walking and is looking back at him with a puzzled expression.

“What?” Valtteri asks, and cringes inwardly at how hostile it sounds.

“Nothing.” Nico replies, looking at him a little longer before continuing down the pit lane. “Nothing” sounds about right, Valtteri thinks, and tries to actually read the information in front of him.

 

\--

 

Valtteri has heard of it before, the fiction people write about characters in films, movie stars, athletes – and apparently, Formula 1-drivers, if Kevin’s loud mouth is anything to go by. From what he overhears, the Dane seems to think it’s absolutely hilarious. Valtteri decides to see for himself. It’s not hard to find. He doesn’t judge, none of it is true, it’s not like anyone is even claiming it is. In fact, if anyone _believed_ this stuff they’d be the one with the problem, he figures. He doesn’t believe it. Not a single word. It’s all made up, fantasies, just stories with familiar characters. None of it is true.

That doesn’t stop him reading it.

It’s interesting and weird at the same time, reading about yourself. He recognizes bits of himself in some of the works, but mostly he thinks of it as a character that shares his name (admittedly quite a rare one, but still) and appearance. Valtteri skims through a couple of stories and realizes that sometimes truth is actually stranger than fiction. He isn’t the most involved, not part of the inner circles, doesn’t even really have an interest in the gossip... but he still knows things, hears things, things that would make some of these fan-fiction-people blush.

It takes a while before he looks at anything with himself and Nico in it. First off, he doesn’t think there is any. Who would write that? They might not be polar opposites, but... they don’t exactly have that together-thing going like some of the others do. Secondly, he doesn’t really want someone else’s stories about Nico and _himself_ in his head.

When he finally gives in, looks for it, finds it, and reads it – all in sort of a rush, as if he just needs to get it over with – the apprehensive feeling that comes with all these stories is greatly surpassed by sheer enjoyment. Some of the stories make him out to be like he feels: awkward, a little out of place. Definitely not in Nico’s league. In some he has a more leading part to play, more ‘strong-and-silent’ than ‘silent-because-he-can’t-think-of-a-damned-thing-to-say’. It doesn’t matter. There’s still an incredible sense of liberation, both mentally and physically (he’s a bit embarrassed to be _that_ fast, but he can’t help it and he certainly can’t stop himself) as the story someone else wrote about them plays out before his eyes.

 

There is however a point where he runs out of stories. At least ones that he wants to read. Reading has given him a lot of food for thought though, a lot of new scenarios. He’s never been one for creative activities but just writing what you see in your head can’t be that difficult, can it? He tentatively writes something, a short summary of his thoughts, and it’s not difficult. In fact, it’s simple. He writes down something more intricate. Reading it back he feels like someone else wrote it, but he can see his own hand in it. It’s not embroidered or artistic, not overly wordy. The shortness and choice of words gives it grittiness, a harsh sense of being real. Valtteri kind of likes it.

He’s been thinking about Nico for so long, observing him and noticing him and it’s not even difficult to imagine how he would react in any given situation, with any given person. It’s not hard at all to combine the rumors with the fantasies and put words on the page.

He easily writes about how Kimi, silent, dominant, and strong, lays Nico out and has his way with him and how Nico’s control is completely broken, how he loves it, arches into every touch, every thrust, how he begs for it when Kimi takes what he wants. Feeling particularly sweet, he later pens something fairly romantic with Nico and Jenson (the Brit is the only person he can see being even somewhat immune to Nico’s charms). He knows they have history and Nico’s reputation almost matches Jenson’s. The difference is that while Jenson is a _charmer_ Nico is _pretty_ and Valtteri finds himself reluctantly liking the dynamic he creates between them.

Feeling a little dirty he details how the two Renault-drivers get some help from Nico with forgetting a bad race, using his _experience_ as a seasoned driver to assist the rookies in ways only he can (Valtteri thinks Kevin wouldn’t laugh at this story, and that makes him happy). Feeling even dirtier he goes back in time and when he’s finished writing the story of how Nico bid Mark an especially fond farewell in 2013, he can taste blood from chewing the inside of his cheek (he hints that they’ve fucked before, a younger and perhaps more naive Nico and an at first slightly guarded but intrigued Mark. He’s heard rumors about it and likes imagining Nico’s then-long hair tossed wildly as his teammate teaches him some off-track lessons. It becomes a story in itself only a day or two later).

He breezes through a few thousand words about Nico in his more sinister role, seducing and corrupting young Max (and reading it back he can’t remember what Max did to deserve it but the point is he’s _heartbroken_ by the end of the story and it’s his own damned fault for messing with Nico in the first place). Sebastian earns himself the same fate a few days later and the story leaves Vettel hopelessly lusting for more of his beautiful, unobtainable countryman. Sebastian’s encounters with Nico will, at Valtteri’s hands, never have a happy ending.

 

The folder with his documents is hidden away and the number of files in it keeps growing. Soon, he’s paired Nico up with pretty much everyone. Everyone except himself. It just doesn’t come as easily to him as all the other tales did. Those things just sort of happened, he wrote what he already knew would happen. With himself and Nico, he has no idea. He still doesn’t even know what to call it, the way he feels about Nico. Useless childish crush? Even more uselessly being in love? Simple, but still useless, lust? He doesn’t really know, doesn’t really care. Maybe it’s just a fascination because he and Nico are so different.

The two weeks between races fly by. As usual they’re full of training and sim-work and travelling, but on top of that Valtteri has managed to get an account with the site that has all the fan fiction. He’s translated some of his work to English as best he can and posts it; he gets a few kudos’ and a couple of comments. He doesn’t respond to any of them.

 

\--

 

Since he’s kept an eye on Nico for so long, Valtteri has identified a lot of sides to Nico’s personality. Among others, there’s Professional Nico, who talks to reporters and smiles and switches languages, who laughs politely and answers questions the way Mercedes have told him to. There’s Friendly Nico, more relaxed person who speaks freely and jokes around with other drivers or indeed his friends, who takes selfies and scrunches his nose when he laughs.

At the post-GP party however, it looks like Evil Nico is in attendance. There’s a dangerous kind of glint in his eyes and even from this distance Valtteri can see him leisurely sipping his drink and swaying his hips to the music but still surveying the room, his eyes sliding over people to see which prey is worthy of the hunt tonight. What he’s not prepared for is Nico locking his sights on him and then walking right across the dance floor until he’s standing in front of Valtteri, still smiling.

 

“You’re always watching me.” It’s not a question, but he isn’t accusing. Valtteri is glad for the drinks he has managed to get into his system because if he had been sober he would never have responded to that with a casual shrug.

“Maybe I am.”

“Now you sound like Kimi.” Nico’s smile is a little sharper, the look in his eyes darker. Valtteri is out at sea here and there are no lifeboats in sight, but some usually overlooked part of him decides that rather than swim for safety he should _dive_ and despite hearing himself say it he doesn’t quite believe that it’s him talking.

“Do you like that?”

There’s no better word to describe how Nico looks at him: he’s _impressed._ Valtteri is somewhere between proud, turned on, and absolutely terrified, but he’s realized that much like in the stories, he dislikes unfinished things and truth is sometimes stranger than fiction and thus it’s perfectly as it should be when Nico says “come on” and leads him away from the bar.

Nico knows his way around (the implications of that could work well in a story, Valtteri thinks) and before too long they’re in the men’s room furthest away from the party. There’s no-one else in there and Nico swallows the rest of his drink in one go before setting the glass down with a horribly sharp clink.

“I like _you_ ,” Nico says and it takes Valtteri a second to understand that he’s continuing the conversation from before, “and since you’re always watching I get the feeling maybe you like what you see?”

Right now ‘terrified’ is winning out and Valtteri can’t say anything so he just nods and gets a smirk in return. Nico presses in close and they’re alone and the music is barely audible in here but he still whispers, so close to Valtteri’s ear the hairs on his arms stand up and he doesn’t know if it’s because it tickles or because of what Nico says.

“I would like to see more of you. I think maybe I’ll like what I see too.”

 

They end up in one of the cubicles.

 

“I’m not in love with you or anything.” Nico suddenly says, like he only just remembered. Valtteri doesn’t know how to respond so he gives him a one-shouldered shrug. He’d like to explain that he doesn’t know if he’s in love with Nico either, he’s _something_ but he’s not sure it’s love because while it feels like it would make him do some pretty stupid things, it wouldn’t exactly be an emotion you’d write songs about.

Nico looks like he’s evaluating Valtteri and he finds himself wondering how he would word it if he was to write this. How would he describe the way Nico leans in dangerously close and fills Valtteri’s nose with the way he smells while asking if he can kiss him, talking so close their lips are already touching? He nods and for some reason he notices how Nico closes his eyes before getting that little bit closer, pressing their lips together, and it’s almost enough to make him forget to kiss back at all before he feels Nico’s tongue against his lips.

He’s not sure what to do with his hands but Nico doesn’t seem to care, his hand is on Valtteri’s crotch and he gives him a little squeeze, the Finn makes a noise in surprise and Nico doesn’t even break the kiss when he smirks at him. This is _definitely_ Evil Nico, and that should probably concern Valtteri more than it does at the moment but Nico’s tongue is in his mouth and he tastes like something sweet and alcohol and _fuck_ he feels good.

 

The nudge to his shoulder is a bit unexpected but it’s kind of hard to misinterpret, so he gets on his knees in front of Nico and he’s happy that his hands aren’t as shaky as he feared they might be when he undoes Nico’s belt and opens his pants. Nico’s cock is hard, straining against his boxers and Valtteri feels like he should be asking permission before touching him (but the nudge from earlier is probably all the permission he needs really). He looks up and Nico is looking down at him, his head slightly tilted to one side like he’s curious to see what’s going to happen.

Valtteri has to admit he doesn’t have massive amounts of experience and he breaks eye contact with Nico to _uncover_ his cock carefully and look at it. He has a feeling that if he doesn’t just do it he’ll chicken out or get so nervous he’ll do a bad job, so he opens his mouth and takes Nico’s cock inside, closing his eyes and just _feeling_ it slide between his lips. It’s hard and soft at the same time, there’s a bit of give but it’s still firm and his mind starts looking for the right words to describe this.

When he’s taken him as far in as he’s comfortable Nico moans and Valtteri opens his eyes because the sound is not what he expected, it’s a lot softer and more tender than he thought it would be. He pulls back slowly and it’s not until then he notices that Nico’s hair is trimmed, and Valtteri didn’t know it was possible to feel self-conscious about your own grooming habits with another man’s cock in your mouth but you learn something new every day.

Nico lets him suck at his own pace for a while but then his hand is on Valtteri’s head, in his hair (still too short to get messed up, he thinks), but he doesn’t push. Rather he gets Valtteri to be still while he moves his hips, just a little at first, like he’s checking how far he can go, and something about the phrasing _“Valtteri lets Nico fuck his mouth”_ makes Valtteri groan which makes Nico go a little further, a little faster.

“Do you swallow?” Nico pants out and Valtteri honestly doesn’t know. His brain isn’t working. Would he? Should he? Does Nico? (Valtteri remembers that in the stories, yes, he usually does). Nico seems to take his hesitation as a no and pulls back, grabbing his own cock and giving it a couple of firm tugs before coming in his hand, some making it on to the floor, but thankfully he misses both them and their clothes.

 

He’s not sure how he gets up (his knees feel stiff but his legs are wobbly), or how Nico gets his rock-hard member out of his pants that fast, but even on his knees in the men’s room with a cock in his mouth Nico looks really good. Not to mention how he _feels_ because Valtteri doesn’t like to think, right now, about how much practice it might take to get to this level of skill.

His back is against the wall and he tilts his head back, hitting the wall with a little thump, but other than that all he can hear are the wet noises of Nico’s mouth on his cock, the sounds seem to echo around the room and if anyone came in here now they would probably know what was going on within seconds. It’s almost too tight and too hot and Nico’s using his hands and doing _something_ with his tongue on the underside of Valtteri’s cock and it’s almost too much to feel good, but he’s never felt anything like it and it’s making his knees go weak.

Part of Nico’s skill is apparently also knowing how to interpret the groaned non-word Valtteri offers in warning when he feels that familiar clenching tightness inside. He’s so close it feels like he’s been reduced to that feeling alone, he just wants to come, and it’s a miracle he hears it at all when Nico speaks.

“Katso minua.”

Valtteri has grown so accustomed to translating everything in his head that at first he doesn’t realize that Nico _does_ know a little bit of Finnish after all. He looks down and Nico is grinning, his mouth open and his tongue out, lapping at the head of Valtteri’s cock and jerking him off and when he quirks his eyebrow and looks at Valtteri like he’s daring him to come it’s like pulling the trigger of a gun.

Nico blinks when the first spurt lands in his mouth, but other than that his eyes don’t move from Valtteri’s and it’s like he’s _making_ him look, and Nico takes everything he has to give before licking at him one last time and leaving Valtteri in no doubt as to whether or not Nico swallows (sometimes truth apparently matches fiction). Nico gets up, dusts himself off and gives Valtteri a kiss. He still tastes like alcohol and something sweet but now there’s something else too, and Valtteri knows full well what it is but he doesn’t want to think about it too much right now.

“I’ll see you around.” Nico smiles and gets out of the cubicle and Valtteri hears him wash his hands before the door is opened and then there’s only quiet. He tucks himself away and closes his pants in sort of a daze, going over to one of the sinks. When he sees his face in the mirror he blushes, because somehow he thought he would look _different_ , but it’s still just him and he thinks to himself that well, now he knows how that story plays out too.

He goes back to his hotel room and half-heartedly checks the fan fiction-site. He won’t read this story on there; nobody has written what happened between him and Nico (in a goddamned men’s room). If he wants to read that he’ll have to write it himself and he doesn’t feel up to that, not while his shirt still smells like Nico and he can close his eyes and still feel Nico against him, around him.

 

A week goes by and it’s unbelievably _normal_ in the paddock that weekend. Valtteri is almost a little disappointed at just how _normal_ everyone is acting and the strangest thing is probably when Nico stops beside him outside of the garage and asks, perfectly casually, how he’s doing. He gives him a non-committal answer and the same shrug he always seems to give and Nico smiles.

Valtteri sees the McLaren drivers looking at them, Jenson’s eyes lingering just a little bit longer than his teammate’s. The Renault-boys walk past in their eye-watering yellow clothes and Marcus is a mostly blue blot beside them. Valtteri only catches the end of what Kevin is talking about this time before they round the corner and get out of earshot.

“... and I can’t believe somebody wrote that! You have to wonder who these people are...”

_“Yes,”_ Valtteri thinks with a huff of laughter, _“you kind of have to.”_

“What?” Nico asks, giving him a curious look.

“Nothing,” Valtteri replies and Nico gives him a little smile before walking off.

Later that night, Valtteri creates a blank document and takes a deep breath before he starts typing.

_“Nico’s in a playful mood. When he spots Valtteri standing across the room, awkwardly looking around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, the opportunity to have a little fun is too good to pass up. He walks over and...”_

 

\-- The End –

**Author's Note:**

> Katso minua = look at me. (if this is wrong I'm sorry, had to trust google translate!)
> 
> As usual this was all in good fun.  
> Thanks for the read! :)


End file.
